


Shielded

by Woodface



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 20:43:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3395711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woodface/pseuds/Woodface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's <i>gone</i>. Everything Cassandra fought for, everything she believed in has turned to ashes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shielded

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to avesnongrata for the beta.

It's _gone_. Everything Cassandra fought for, everything she believed in has turned to ashes.

Cassandra snarls and puts all her strength in the forward movement as she slams her shield into the training dummy. It creaks and straw and dust go flying up in the air. Cassandra swirls, slams her shield again. It lands with a loud crack, but it isn't nearly as satisfying as she'd like. Neither is the next hit, or the one after, and even when the wood finally gives way and the training dummy falls uselessly to the grass, Cassandra still wants to lash out.

"Cass!" A hand falls to her shoulder and Cassandra swivels, turns and lifts her arm, ready to bring the pommel of her sword down on her attacker's face.

Strong fingers grip her wrist, and wide eyes meet hers. Cassandra stutters to a stop. She knows that look, the worry and hopelessness, but how far they've come as those eyes are familiar, and Cassandra realises the Inquisitor is worried about _her_.

"Cassandra," the Inquisitor says softly, shifting closer. The Inquisitor is always fluid, always graceful, making Cassandra feel like a bull lumbering about clumsily.

"Do not look at me like that!" Cassandra snarls, but the Inquisitor doesn't pull back. Slowly, Cassandra lets her lower her sword arm.

"Like what?" the Inquisitor asks softly.

"As if you pity me." Cassandra spits out the words. She wants to pull back, but the Inquisitor still has a firm hold on her, and for some reason she cannot fathom, Cassandra does not want to break it. It is solid and real when everything else around her is falling to pieces.

"I do not pity you." The Inquisitor shakes her head and she reaches up, brushing her fingers lightly over Cassandra's cheek. "I feel for you."

"Is that not the same?" Cassandra demands. The fingers on her cheek burn with their warmth and their gentleness, and Cassandra jerks a little at the touch. She sees the doubt in the Inquisitor's eyes, feels the touch falter. 

Cassandra lets go of her shield, letting it fall with a thump to the grass so she can grab hold of the Inquisitor's wrist and press her cheek against her palm. A tremor runs through her, and she squeezes her eyes shut, unable to meet those eyes that see through her. 

"It is not. It means I care for you." The Inquisitor is even closer now, barely touching save for the hands on her cheek and sword arm. The grip on her arm loosens, and Cassandra grips the Inquisitor's wrist tighter, but she needn't have feared as the Inquisitor threads her fingers in Cassandra's hair instead. 

It's soft and comforting, and it shouldn't send heat down to the pit of her stomach. It's comfort, but it's so much _more_. Cassandra falters, leans forward until her forehead rests against the Inquisitor's. 

_Maker. Do not let me go._ She breathes the words or thinks them. It matters not as the Inquisitor stays with her.


End file.
